


Benny's Room 101

by kapakoscheisigma



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who: Virgin New Adventures - Various Authors
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-24
Updated: 2012-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-30 01:46:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kapakoscheisigma/pseuds/kapakoscheisigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in an adventure of my own creation in the thirteenth century east the Doctor and Benny have very different approaches to coping with an unpleasant, nasty experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Benny's Room 101

**Author's Note:**

> Rights belong to BBC, Virgin/Big Finish and Paul Cornell

Bernice Summerfield closed her eyes. She would not - could not - look at him. He was so overpowering, overbearing, arrogant... His breath was rank, smelling of stale spices, hashish, paan and the over powerful, unbearable smell of tooth decay. With her eyes closed she was more aware of the Doctor’s shouting. She felt ungrateful, but it was intrusive. Besides, he no longer sounded angry, and certainly he did not have the least bit of authority. He was just going through the motions, perhaps to make himself feel better? She hated him. He wasn’t going to go through this was he? 

Still, the more she concentrated on the Doctor’s wailed litany, the less she had to listen to the creepy words of this smug so called prince. The bastard. She was never going to forgive the Doctor for getting her into this. 

The bastard was telling her...

No!

She would not listen.

Listen to the Doctor instead Benny, she told herself.

Great. She was going mad.

“Leave her alone! Please leave her alone!” the Doctor was wailing. Occasionally Benny heard the sound of hard fist impacting on flesh and bone, but apart from the odd pitiful moan or two, he never let up. He’s not listening Doctor. Save your breath.

She opened her eyes and twisted her head, desperate to locate the Doctor in the dank gloom.

“Such beauty, so white,” the bastard prince was purring.

Shut up! Benny was too afraid of further humiliation, of pain, of death even. She wished she could scream it in his face. Ace would have done. But then, Ace would never have got herself into this situation.

“Leave her alone! No! Don’t!”

And shut up Doctor. Despite promising herself it was useless to fight back, of that deep fear that she’d be far more hurt, even killed, Benny found herself struggling against the prince as he removed her jeans and pants. In hindsight, she felt it faintly amusing that this thirteenth century Hindu prince had taken ages to understand a zipper, had balked momentarily at her run of the mill black cotton M&S pants, but at the time she bit her tongue after an angry, frightening, pleading “no” or two escaped. 

He had laughed.  
Benny hated that laugh more than anything.

“If my father decides not to have you executed then you shall be my concubine.”

“Over my dead body!” Benny screamed in his face. Just then she meant it too.

He punched her face, not believing at a woman’s defiance, angered and threatened by it. She shut up after that, biting her tongue hard as he forced his way into her to stop any noise. An embarrassing sharp gasp of pain escaped. He laughed again.

Benny tried to make her mind wander, go elsewhere, not to be here, in her body, feeling this bastard inside her, on top of her, speaking to her... She had always assumed if she had to go through this one more time she’d never survive. Well, so far she’d been wrong. Mind you, she’d been sixteen last time, when she’d made that pessimistic conclusion. Over half a lifetime ago. Never say die, the Doctor always said.

The Doctor? His litany seemed to have changed pitch and wording. “No! No! Please - no! No!” It was more pathetic than before. Suddenly the last of his pleadings broke half way into an earth shattering inhuman shriek of pain. Then a hideous crack.

Silence.

No. Not the Doctor. Benny squirmed, desperate to see him, to check he was still all right, still alive, but all she did was please the bastard who was raping her. He laughed in her face as he drove into her. She bit her tongue so hard blood gushed down the back of her throat. She would not give the bastard the satisfaction of another sound!

Bernice Summerfield, super-hard bitch extraordinaire, refused to acknowledge she was crying. She screwed her eyes tight shut, but still the tears squeezed out. She dug her nails in her palms in her tightly balled fists until her hands too were wet with blood. She began - despite herself - to pray.

“Look, if You’re there, I’m sorry I’ve not believed in You. It’s not that I actively disbelieved. Look, God, Goddess, Whatever, just please get me through this and I’ll give up the booze. Promise. And don’t let them have killed the Doctor. I know he’d a noisy, irritating sod, but he means well. You probably know that, You’re probably using him, aren’t you? There, so You won’t let him be dead. Please, Creator- Being, get me out of this in one piece...”

 

Benny lay for a few minutes not moving. She was dimly aware as the prince barked commands and the guards following him out of the cell, their laughter ringing in her ears long after the cell fell into a dark silence. She felt red raw and sore between her legs, and her jaw ached where he’d punched her. His continuous praises of her white, European beauty and his desires for on a permanent, harem basis, had been worse. Really, they had. Self-opinionated oaf. She supposed she should move, put her jeans back on, and find out…

A noise, then another. It sounded like a swallowed sob, followed by ragged breathing. Someone was trying very hard not to cry and failing miserably. That someone could only be… 

The Doctor!

He was alive then. Good. Because if the little bastard had got himself killed defending her dubious honour the she, Benny, would be stuck in a thirteenth bloody century harem.

Frag, he didn’t sound like the Doctor. He must be in a hell of a lot of pain to make that pathetic noise. What had the guards done to him?

Cruk! No!  
Wincing with the burning pain, Benny sat up…

Ow!

She scanned for her jeans; her pants had been ripped to shreds. She idly located them and began to pull them on without even noticing it. She was too fascinated, too disturbed, too scared…

As soon as she’d sat up Benny’s eyes had fixed their gaze on a pair of legs… naked legs. Long, lean, smooth very white legs covered in soft downy hairs. Rather beautiful, if pale, legs actually. For a long time she stared, unable to process the image or instruct her eyes to move one-way or the other. Eventually she settled on raking her eyes down those legs to see the bunched up white linen around the ankles. She looked at the feet, the brushed suede shoes, refusing to acknowledge anything. Her brain couldn’t take it in. Any minute now she was going to scream, or cry, or laugh hysterically. Something.

Frag! She was looking at the Doctor’s naked legs. She was looking at the Doctor with no clothes on. It didn’t seem possible. The reason behind this nakedness was not something Benny’s mind was yet prepared to process. 

His fragging half-swallowed sobs were really getting on her nerves.

Finally Benny was prepared to let her gaze travel up those legs. He really has nice legs, Benny thought absently, before clamping her hands over her mouth to cover the gasp of horror.

Blood. Too much blood. Blood on the back of his thighs, trickling down his legs and puddling between them.

Frag! One obsessed son of an emir. Three guards. Count them. Cruk! One female, designed by a Creator or Nature or Whatever to… to… One male, not. Shit shit shit…

“Doctor?”

Benny tried to stand up, but her legs shook too much. She tried to finish dressing, but she was too stiff and sore. Instead, she settled for half-crawling, half-wriggling across the floor with her jeans pulled up to her knees. It took five minutes, but eventually she was kneeling up beside him. She forced herself to look at his backside. He was definitely still bleeding.

“Doctor?”

He was crukking well conscious, he wouldn’t be sobbing or panting like that if he was out of it!

“Doctor? It’s me, Benny. Are you all right?”

Stupid question Bernice.

He twisted his head to her direction. His face tracked with tears, his left eye and cheek were purple and swollen, his lower lip bitten and red with swelling and blood.

“Bernice? I’m sorry. Forgive me.”

“What!?”

“Forgive me.”

“For what?”

“For getting you into this mess. If I hadn’t been -” he broke off, as if in too much pain to cope with speaking.

“Doctor,” Benny said softly, reaching to touch him, but checking her impulse awkwardly. “Don’t try to talk. How badly are you hurt?”

He looked surprised, as if he should be asking her that question. Benny suddenly realized the way she was sitting, her location and the lack of jeans were giving him an extremely intimate view. Despite the discomfort, she yanked up her jeans. Her embarrassment was laughable under the circumstances. She realized he wasn’t the only one to have lost blood.

“I bled,” she muttered in wonder. At least she didn’t seem to be still bleeding, unlike the Doctor. 

“Bernice?”

“Doctor?”

“Excuse me.” He tried to pull himself up on to his hands and knees but only made it half way, resting on his elbows. He began to vomit. Copiously.

Cruk cruk cruk! Benny caught him as he began to sink back on to his face and held him, stroking his forehead and hair. Looking at the vomit made Benny want to retch, and she knew that in her right mind she’d never hold someone while they threw up but she seemed to be operating on some instinct she never knew she had. She guessed he’d been orally raped too.

When he’d finished she helped him move away from the mess. As he knelt up he let out surprised gasp, as he seemed to finally realize how badly he was bleeding. He tentatively probed with his fingers, wincing in pain. He looked at Benny with worry, biting his bitten lip but trying to smile for her. His face was creased with pain.

“I think it looks worse than it is.” 

“Tell me that’s the truth?”

He stared at her a long time with not so much his usual inscrutable, unfathomable expression but more of a blank, numb one.

“How are you feeling Benny?”

“Angry. Pissed off. I want out of here.”

He sucked at his bitten lip. “Yes, but…”

“Just crukking tell me if you have a prolapse and disgusting internal injuries and I’ll just go and sit in a corner and wait until you’ve lost enough blood to regenerate!”

Benny never did understand her motives for her outburst. She instantly regretted it. The Doctor did something she could never, ever imagine him doing in a million years. If she could live to be a million, which she couldn’t, of course? She was also about to realize the reason behind the screamed nightmares she’d heard from behind his bedroom door.

He burst into tears and curled himself up into a tight ball. She realized he was babbling too, but she couldn’t make out the words.

Hating herself, Benny moved to sit beside him and stroked his back, his hair, until he crept into her lap like a child, wrapping his arms around her waist. She held him until the sobbing subsided, feeling numb, thinking she must be a cold bitch. Why couldn’t she cry? But she felt cold, numb and calm, as well as a small resentment that the crukking indestructible Time Lord was bleeding and sobbing and babbling incomprehensibly in what she assumed was Gallifreyan.

Eventually he sat up and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He had the good grace to look ashamed. When he spoke his voice was almost back to normal, with only a slight catch to it.

“I shalln’t regenerate. You’ll just have to put up with me as I am now, won’t you? And right now, I can’t think of a way out of here until the morning when the Emir himself interrogates us. I’m sorry Benny, but there it is.”

Back to his infuriating usual self. “I was more crukking worried about your bleeding you stupid bitch!” she screamed at him.

The Doctor blinked in surprise and flinched slightly. Benny realized she’d picked the worse possible time to use a feminizing insult.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. Her eyes were burning with the need to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come now, only before, with the pain and humiliation caused by that bastard prince.  
“It’s quite all right. Please don’t worry about me Bernice.”

Benny gave him a skeptical look.

“I promise you it’s nothing more serious than torn skin and veins. Is there any water?”

Both of them scanned the room, both desperate for something practical to think of. Benny found a huge pitcher of water, two cups and a bowl. She limped painfully backwards and forwards to bring them to the Doctor. He plucked his paisley scarf from under his jacket lapels, dunked it in the water he’d poured into the bowl and handed it to Benny.

“Clean yourself up a bit.”

She bit her lip and scared meaningfully at his own bloody thighs. “I think you should -”

“I shall.” He pulled a scarf and a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and proceeded to wet both of them and slowly, carefully clean himself. Benny followed suit. Having something practical to focus on made Benny a lot calmer, to say nothing of the feeling of relief to be able to clean some of the prince’s pollution away. She began to feel calmer and at last she felt more in control, more her usual self.

After making herself as clean as she felt able, she poured herself some water to drink and let the Doctor use the rest. He was right; it did seem to look worse that it in fact was. Once he’d managed to wash the blood away she could tell he had stopped bleeding a while ago. It had been blood dyed... seminal fluid and... and other matter that she had watched run out of him down his leg with morbid fascination and horror. Once she’d watched him gingerly pull up his trousers she spoke.

 

She never wondered why she didn’t feel embarrassed by his half-nudity, or her own. She did later, but couldn’t explain it to herself. She was more embarrassed in hindsight by her appreciation of his legs.

“Doctor?”

“Mm?” he was now sipping water slowly, as if afraid he may be sick again.

“You’ve been raped before, haven’t you?”

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know really. A feeling. Have you?”

“Have you?”

Benny sighed. “You know I have. I’ve told you.”

He broke eye contact, staring at the floor. “Yes,” he murmured. “Yes I have. Many times.” He shuddered. “Starting with my father...” he tailed off, staring now into space at some point beyond Benny.

“You father..?” Benny said awkwardly, more to fill the dreadful silence than because she wanted to know or felt he should talk about it.

He suddenly fixed her with an intense stare, as if daring her to challenge him, suggest he was lying. She said nothing. What could she say?

“This incarnation...” he muttered. He looked down again, tracing patterns in the dusk with his fingertips, watching his own movements intently. “I... I seem to have experienced this particular form of assault more often than my previous incarnations put together. Thus far.”

“Doctor.” Benny put a hand to his arm. “Did Ace know?”

“She thought it funny,” he said darkly. “She thinks I’m a prostitute who gets no better than he deserves. Perhaps she’s right. I’m so sorry you had to get involved.”

“Doctor!” Benny wanted to hit him for such maudlin self-pity and self-recrimination. No, she wanted to hit Ace. She damn well would, next time she saw her. “You can’t think like that, none of this - anytime - is your fault. You can’t...”

“Ace told me I’m a tease...”

“The bitch! You can’t-”

But he wasn’t listening, but staring into space, musing. “I don’t suppose it counts as rape, really - my father, I mean. I was confused, I wanted to please him...”

Benny felt sick to the pit of her stomach. Time Lords were apparently not immune to incest and child abuse. About 150 things about the Doctor clicked into place.

“It’s hard to understand, isn’t it?” she said. “At least you had a father.”

“Yes,” he sighed.

“It was easier for me. At the Academy, I mean. I knew they were bastards, that they - that I was saying no...”

“I have this big area of my mind, a no go area, getting bigger, where I file all these... unpleasant experiences. I never look at them; it’s just that every new time seems to smash down the wall. Then I have to build higher ones to lock them away.”

“I drink to forget.”

“I know you do Bernice.”

“Are we going to escape then?”

“In the morning.” The Doctor sighed, and then rubbed at the small of his back. “We need to rest, as running is not going to be easy for either of us, is it?”

Benny actually managed a smile as she reached out to touch his arm. He flinched automatically. Especially you, she thought. She tried to smile again, feeling irrationally offended by his flinch. “No Doctor,” she said. “No, it isn’t.” 

He smiled back, but the smile froze on his face. He seemed about to say something, and then obviously changed his mind. Instead he held out his arms, like a child demanding a cuddle. Benny threw herself into that hug and stayed there all night. She never knew if he slept, but if he did, they slept in each others’ arms that night, both of them wounded, scarred and scared yet strangely optimistic. To think that a sixteen Benny had decided to kill herself if this had ever happened again. Well, you live and learn.

Later she wondered why she had slept. Was it shock, exhaustion or had the crukking little bastard hypnotized her? If her had, it was the only time she was prepared to forgive him. She had forgiven him anything in that dank, dark cell. He seemed more confused and vulnerable than she had ever known him. Perhaps she did to him? Certainly she didn’t recognize herself when she relived it, which she did with frightening monotony.

The Doctor told her many times to file it away, to bury the memories somewhere deep in her mind and refuse to examine them. She seemed to be unable to do that, having some morbid fascination with reliving it. She drank to forget, but when drunk, the post-mortem continued. The Doctor told her to write it all down, expunge her feelings on paper. He said it helped him. Benny always got as far as finding pen and paper, but in the process she would find some whiskey, or some brandy, and get drunk again instead.

Roz finally helped, but she was a long time coming into the TARDIS.


End file.
